


breaking point / lament

by cinnappo



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Character death (lament), M/M, Ryeowook-centric, attempted suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 17:54:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4970671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnappo/pseuds/cinnappo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryeowook is fighting a losing battle with his inner demons. Fics inspired by <a href="https://thefindingplace.wordpress.com/2012/01/05/i-know-a-hundred-ways-to-die-by-edna-st-vincent-millay/">this</a> and <a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/173990">this</a>, respectively.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. breaking point / lament | part 1

**Author's Note:**

> First draft completed Sept. 29 2015. Beta completed Oct. 9 2015. These are two separate works that share the same first part -- "chapters" 2 and 3 should be considered two separate endings.  
> September was National Suicide Prevention Month. If you or someone you love may be suicidal, please speak up and seek help. [This](www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org) is just one of the many resources available out there for you. Just know that, no matter how tough things are now, they will get better. I promise.   
> Dedicated to Carol Ann, whom I miss more than words can say. It's been a long 15 years without you.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

_No one will miss you._

In. Out. In. Out.

_No one really cares about you._

In. Out.

_You're alone. You're always going to be alone._

In.

_You don't matter. Why even bother? Nothing matters._

Out.

These words bounced around in Ryeowook's head for days, weeks, months, and he didn't know why. They seemed to come from nowhere. He knew what it was like to feel low, lower than everyone else – his high school photos were a testament to that. But it had never been this bad before, and he didn't feel particularly sad now. And yet he couldn't get the words out of his head. When he tried to sleep, they rang like a claxon in his ears. He tried to keep busy. Tried to push them to the dark recesses of his mind. Still, they returned, when he slowed down even to catch a breath.

Deep breathing kept him calm, mostly. It helped, a little.

He thought about telling someone. In the dark of the night, when Henry had an arm wrapped around his middle and his breath tickled the back of his neck, Ryeowook thought about telling him about these terrible thoughts.

But then the voice would whisper, _If you tell him, you'll be a burden. You're a bad person if you want to burden him with this. He doesn't want it. He doesn't care._ Ryeowook tried to reason with the voice. Henry loved him, after all. How could he not care if he loved him?

Still, he couldn't bring himself to tell Henry. Or anyone else, for that matter.

Maybe there was something wrong, Ryeowook thought. He ought to go see a doctor. But then they'd think he was crazy, and he didn't think he was crazy. Everyone had their ups and downs, right? The others would worry, and he didn't want that. He just wanted these thoughts to go away. If he just waited, maybe they'd go away on their own.

_It won't go away,_ the voice told him. _You don't matter. You're worthless. You can't get away from it._

Ryeowook tried his best to ignore the voice. He started going to bed with headphones in, hoping to drown it out. Threw himself into his work, tried to prove to himself that he mattered. He even started a journal, writing down all of the things the voice told him and all of his arguments against them. All that did was make the voice chant even louder, the crescendo impossible to escape.

_Why are you even trying? What does it matter? Why do you even bother?_

It took all the strength in him not to worry Henry, or the others, to keep up the façade that he was fine. He spent time with the others, laughed with them, even as the voice turned into a chain around his chest that made it hard to breathe. Curled into Henry at night, kissed him, loved him, even as the voice screamed at him and made it feel as though his ears would bleed.

He just wanted it to stop.

_It won't stop. Not until you die._

Please, he begged the voice, just stop. Just go away, leave me alone. Just stop. Even as he thought that, he started to see things that might be some relief. The roof was just high enough, that he'd black out before he hit the ground. Trains went fast enough that he wouldn't even know what happened. But then he'd catch himself thinking like this, and scold himself, and write it all down in his journal, as though to bleed the poison from a festering wound. And then he'd catch himself again, and again.

_That's the only way this will stop. This is the only way out._

Before he knew it, he started believing what the voice told him. That it was never going to end. He was going to either actually go crazy with the voice eating at him every waking hour and sometimes in his dreams, or that he'd have to die to escape it.

_Just end it. There's a hundred different ways. Just pick one and end it already._

Ryeowook couldn't take it anymore.

The dorm was empty, and he'd begged off sick. No one would be home for hours. There was no need to lock the bathroom door. He held the bottle between his hands like a prayer, like this would surely end the madness in his head. Poured them out into his palm.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

He took one pill. Brought the glass of water to his mouth and relished in the feel of it going down his throat. The voice was quiet, and the silence was sweet. Then he took another. And another. Swallowed each one, one by one, until his palm held nothing but air and his stomach was bloated with water.

But nothing felt different. _It's not enough,_ the voice said, sneering at him. _You have to do it right. You're so worthless if you can't even do this one thing right._

So he opened the pill cabinet, and pulled out another bottle. Tears started leaking from the corners of his eyes now. Even now, when he was finally giving in to the voice, it wouldn't give him any peace. So he swallowed the whole lot in one go, tipped his head back and nearly choked.

_Weak. Worthless. Pathetic. Just die._

He reached for another bottle. A sob tore past his lips. "Make it stop," he moaned aloud. More pills, more, until he had taken every pill in the cabinet. Now his stomach churned from the water sloshing in it, and his throat burned, and he was beginning to feel woozy, and he couldn't stop crying.

But the voice had finally, _finally_ , ceased. And after a long moment, Ryeowook realized that he felt lighter than he had in months.

He was free.

The sobs turned into whimpers, the whimpers to giggles, and the giggles to hysterical laughter. He sank to the floor, leaning back against the bathtub. Sat there for what felt like a blissful eternity, just breathing in the silence, reveling in it. His laughter finally trailed off with a lingering sigh. 

In. Out. In. Out. 

Then his stomach lurched, and the reality of what he'd just done sank in with a sobering quickness. Panic settled in, setting his heart racing. In the absence of the voice, rationality crashed back in on a tidal wave of regret. His own voice repeated itself over and over in his head, like a broken record.

_I don't want to die._

His thoughts were muddy, vision blurring. The cocktail of pills he'd taken worked quicker than he'd anticipated. His mouth watered as a wave of nausea crashed over him, and he used the sink to pull himself to his feet. Vertigo sent the room spinning and he swayed, gripping the sink until his knuckles went white.

A ringing, faint on the edge of his consciousness, gave him clarity. Phone. His phone was ringing. The phone meant help. He just had to get to the phone.

The corridor between the bathroom and his bedroom had never felt longer. Using the wall to support himself, inch by agonizing inch, Ryeowook trudged his way, the ringing pushing him forward. Just make it to the phone, he thought. He'd barely made it through the threshold of his room before his legs buckled and he stumbled, toppling over himself. It hurt to breathe, and sobs overtook him again, making it even harder to get air. 

Breathe in. Breathe out.

He got to his knees and crawled the rest of the way to his bed. The phone lay where he'd left it on the nightstand, but it'd stopped ringing. Ryeowook reached for it, his hand trembling, and had barely gotten his fingers around it when his stomach lurched again and he vomited on the bedroom floor.

Sweat and tears ran down Ryeowook's face as he retched, until the cramping in his stomach had subsided enough for him to collapse on his side next to the pile of sick and try to catch his breath. His limbs were feeling heavy now, and he could barely gather the strength to lift his phone to his face, let alone focus enough to use it.

It rang again. He blinked once, twice, before he could read the name on the screen.

_Henry._

How he managed to answer the phone, he didn't know. He had stopped sobbing, if only because he didn't have the air to cry out, though tears still streamed down his face. His tongue felt three times it's normal size in his mouth.

"Hello? Babe, you there? Listen, I was just calling to check up on you. I know you're feeling under the weather, so I'm coming home now for lunch. Do you want me to bring you home anything?"

_Henry. What have I done? I don't want to die. Help me. I love you. I didn't mean for this to happen. I'm so sorry._

Ryeowook breathed in, breathed out, forcing the words past his lips. They were barely more than a whisper.

"Ryeowook?"

The phone slipped from his grasp, clattering softly on the floor. He didn't have the strength to pick it up again, chest heaving. There wasn't enough air. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe.

"Ryeowook, what's wrong? Ryeowook? _Ryeowook, answer me!_ "

In. 

Out. 


	2. breaking point | part 2

" _Save me, Henry._ "

Of the hundreds of things that could have happened, of the hundreds of worst-case scenarios that flashed through Henry's head as he raced home, this wasn't one of them. He'd heard the urgency in Ryeowook's voice, and feared Ryeowook was more ill than he'd let on in the morning. Maybe he'd had a dizzy spell and fallen or something.

Never could Henry have imagined the nightmare he walked into. 

Ryeowook, barely breathing and lips turning blue, crumpled on his bedroom floor. No less than half a dozen empty pill bottles littered about the bathroom. And so many unanswered questions.

_No, this can't be happening._

It took a long moment for him to realize that the inhuman sound that rang in his ears was the sound of his own screams, rushing to kneel at Ryeowook's side. Tremors racked his body as he pulled Ryeowook into his lap, cradled his head in his arms. He slapped Ryeowook's face, brushed the sweat-drenched bangs from his forehead. 

"Please wake up, baby. God, this can't be happening. Baby, can you hear me? Wake up, please wake up." Ryeowook didn't stir, didn't so much as twitch save for the shallow, uneven breaths that passed his lips. 

_No, no, no._

He needed help, needed somebody, _anybody_. He couldn't do this alone. Somehow, he held it together just enough to call for an ambulance, close to hyperventilating himself. The operator told him to calm down. Henry didn't know how they could be so calm, how they could possibly expect _him_ to be calm when Ryeowook was lying in his arms, struggling for every breath. Ryeowook was _dying_ , and they told Henry to be calm?

"Is there anyone you can call to be with you?" they'd asked. "Someone that can meet you at the hospital?" 

Henry ran through a list in his head of people he needed to call. Ryeowook's parents. The members. Managers. It was all too much. It was all he could do to stay on the line until paramedics got there. Even then, he still begged Ryeowook to just open his eyes, pleaded with himself to wake up from this nightmare. 

_Don't leave me. I need you. Please, don't die._

No, this was no nightmare. This was worse than any nightmare he could possibly have. This was hell. 

\---

Henry didn't really process the trip to the hospital. He just remembered that he'd gripped Ryeowook's hand the whole way there, while the paramedics worked around him. Remembered that a nurse had physically had to pry his hands away for them to take Ryeowook back into surgery, had to physically shove him down into a chair in the waiting room. 

And now all he could do was wait, and pray, and ask himself, _why_? 

_Why would he do such a thing?_

He felt numb. No more tears fell, and the shaking had subsided. His racing heart had slowed to a less painful rhythm, but he still felt the ache, the grip of fear that made it hard to breathe. He had given his phone up to one of the nurses, let them make that phone call. He couldn't do it. He couldn't tell them. Not Ryeowook's family, not the others. 

Ryeowook's words echoed in his head. _Save me, Henry_ , he'd said. Pleaded on a dying breath. Henry couldn't help but feel he'd let Ryeowook down, in so many ways.

"Henry!" 

Jongwoon rounded the corner, closely followed by Kyuhyun and a manager. The looks on their faces, the terror he knew must mirror his own, set him into tears again. They must have known, must have been told. "I'm sorry," he choked out. "I'm so sorry, I couldn't… I couldn't do anything…" He'd been useless, they had to know that.

_I love him, and I failed him._

Jongwoon knelt in front of him, shushed him, pulled him into his arms. "Don't you say that," Jongwoon said, his voice shaking. "It's not your fault. You couldn't have known he would—that this would happen." He stroked the back of Henry's head and let the boy cry into his shoulder. Kyuhyun looked like he might be ill with worry himself, and a manager went off in search of a nurse for an update. 

_He can't die. He can't._

"We came as soon as we heard," Jongwoon was saying. "I'm sorry it took us so long to get here. You've been so strong, Henry. You did everything you could. It's okay now, Ryeowook will make it. It's okay." He kept on crooning into Henry's hair, hand moving down to rub circles on Henry's back.

But Henry shook his head. Jongwoon didn't understand, _couldn't_ understand. They hadn't seen him lying there, hadn't held him as he did. How could he have not seen this coming? How could he have not seen that Ryeowook was hurting? The image would haunt him forever, blue lips and rasping breaths. How was this not his fault?

_Why would Ryeowook want to die?_

Henry choked back a sob, gripping Jongwoon's sleeve so tight his knuckles turned white. "He begged me to save him," he whispered. Jongwoon tensed, and Kyuhyun's breath hitched. "I talked to him on the phone before I realized what he'd done and the last thing he said to me was, 'save me.' God, Jongwoon, I can't… I can't lose him. I'm so scared."

They stayed like that, for what seemed an age. Nothing Jongwoon said could convince Henry that this wasn't somehow his fault. Kyuhyun took to pacing, tears clearly shining in his eyes though he kept his expression stoic. Every minute that ticked by felt like another dagger in his already crumbling composure. He couldn't take this not knowing. Every minute that ticked by, the dread in Henry's stomach boiled and churned higher and higher, until he felt like he might suffocate on it.

"Family of Kim Ryeowook?" 

Henry all but leapt to his feet, nearly bulldozing Jongwoon over. The doctor made his way over, still suited up from surgery. It seemed he came straight out to meet them, though Henry wished he'd take off the mask so he could read his expression. And then the doctor uttered two words that changed everything.

"He'll live."

\---

_Pathetic._

Ryeowook's head spun. It hurt, everything ached, and he whimpered as even the slightest movement sent spasms all over. And yet, even as consciousness came to him slowly, there was dread growing ever more present and he felt his chest tighten. No, no, no…

_You deserve this pain. You couldn't even get this one thing right. Ache. Suffer. You deserve it._

The voice was still there. 

But there was another voice, too. One that wasn't in his head. "Ryeowook?" 

Ryeowook blinked his eyes open, blinked past the fog of unconsciousness. The first thing he noticed was the white. Then, a face peering over at him from a chair beside the bed. Two more standing nearby. His throat burned, and yet he couldn't help trying to call out for the man beside him. "Henry…" he rasped. He made to reach out for him, only to find his arms were restrained. Oh. The memories flooded back to him. The bathroom, the pills. Everything.

_Should have just died like you were supposed to._

Shut up, he told the voice weakly. You're wrong. I should never have listened to you. Tears leaked out of the corner of his eyes. Even now the voice tormented him. Even after having nearly died. The truth hit him and he cried harder. He was never going to escape it. All he'd done was make everything worse. 

"Ryeowook, baby, don't cry," Henry said, leaning up and cupping either side of Ryeowook's face between his palms. Despite his words, Henry himself was crying, and a strained but relieved laugh flitted past his lips. "You're alive, thank God. You're still with me. Please, don't cry." He thumbed the tears streaming down Ryeowook's face away, leaning forward to press their foreheads together.

_You don't deserve this. Don't you see how you've burdened him?_

Shut up, he told the voice again. He saw Jongwoon and Kyuhyun exchange glances out of the corner of his eye, watched them slip from the room without a word. 

_See? They can't even stand to be around you._

Shut _up_. Henry moved back now, concern shining in his eyes as he stroked Ryeowook's cheeks, and it only made Ryeowook cry even harder. He couldn't find the words to express how _sorry_ he was. He didn't mean it, didn't mean for any of it. Henry understood that, right? 

_Of course he doesn't understand. You're a wreck. He's better off without you. You're better off dead_.

Ryeowook snapped.

"Shut up!" he screamed, hoarse and broken, and Henry flinched backwards. Ryeowook wished his hands weren't bound, because he suddenly felt the urge to tear at his head, as though that would rip the voice from inside of him. "Shut up, shut up, shut _up_!" 

"Ryeowook!" Henry said, alarmed. Ryeowook thrashed, tossing his head back and forth and wailing. 

"Make it stop!" he sobbed, wild-eyed and hysterical. "I don't want to die! It keeps telling me to die and I just couldn't take it anymore but I don't want to die! I just want it to stop, _get it out of my head, please!_ " 

Henry watched in horror as a nurse ran in, hearing the commotion. She shoved him aside and forced Ryeowook down into the mattress, another nurse following hot on her heels with a syringe. Ryeowook wailed again as the second nurse injected the sedative into his IV, and he felt what little strength he'd mustered up fail him as it coursed through him. He turned his head to meet Henry's terrified gaze, tears still streaming down his face.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured as the medicine took him away. "I don't want to die. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it. Just make the voice go away, Henry, please. Make it stop." 

Henry was stunned speechless. The nurses checked Ryeowook's vitals, made sure he was comfortable, and patted Henry on the shoulder as they filed past him. He sank into a chair, the wind all but knocked out of him as Ryeowook's words sank in. Where he hadn't understood before, he did now. He still had many unanswered questions, but at least to the perhaps most important question, he had an answer. He scooted the chair as close to the bed as possible, taking one of Ryeowook's hands between both of his own. Quiet sobs slipped past his lips anew, and he rubbed circles on the back of Ryeowook's hand. 

_I had no idea you were hurting like this. I've let you down. I'm so sorry. I love you._

Ryeowook didn't want to die. That was the important thing. He'd just reached a breaking point Henry hadn't known he had. He'd been pushed to the edge and very nearly fell from it, but now that Henry knew, _understood_ , he knew that Ryeowook could work his way back from that edge.

Henry was determined to make sure Ryeowook wouldn't work his way back from that edge alone.  



	3. lament | part 2

" _Don't forget me, Henry._ "

Henry didn't understand. 

He couldn't comprehend it. He half expected it all to be a big prank, expected Ryeowook to pop in from the back room with that huge grin of his and yell, "Gotcha!" 

That same bright grin stared back at him from behind glass, frozen in time. Lined in black, and framed with white flowers. 

Henry didn't understand. How could Ryeowook be _gone?_

The last few days felt like he'd been living a nightmare. No, worse than a nightmare. He'd been living his own personal hell. From the moment he found Ryeowook lying there crumpled on the floor, still as death, Henry's world dissolved into an unending hell. He remembered realizing that the inhuman sound that rang in his ears was the sound of his own screams, remembered rushing to kneel at Ryeowook's side. Remembered the tremors that racked his body as he pulled Ryeowook into his lap, cradled his head in his arms. He remembered slapping Ryeowook's face, brushing the sweat-drenched bangs from his forehead.

He remembered begging Ryeowook to wake up. And he hadn't so much as twitched. He remembered how cold Ryeowook was in his arms, so very cold, and so still. The pallor of his face was a shadow of the warm glow that should have been there. 

"Baby, can you hear me?" he'd sobbed. "Wake up, please wake up. I love you, you can't leave me here. You can't die, Kim Ryeowook! _Wake up!_ " 

Ryeowook didn't wake up. He never would.

So many things haunted him. Police tape, and sirens. Someone mentioned that he'd taken no less than half a dozen different kinds of medications, and the image of pill bottles on the bathroom floor burned behind his eyes. All of those pitying stares. The shock, the disbelief, the _grief_ of his members, the brothers Ryeowook had never had. And Ryeowook's last words to him. 

_Don't forget me_ , he'd said. Pleaded it on his dying breath. Henry wouldn't forget him, even if he wanted to.

He kept asking himself, why? Why would Ryeowook want to kill himself? He didn't understand. It'd blindsided him. It'd blindsided them all.

The worst thing had been seeing Ryeowook's mother, at the hospital. It'd been worse than seeing them take Ryeowook away, seeing them do everything in their power to bring him back, and fail. It'd been worse than seeing the doctor come out and say those two words that changed everything.

"I'm sorry."

No, seeing Ryeowook's mother see her only son lying there on a cold table, that made Henry want to lie down and die himself. There were no words to describe the cry of a mother losing her child. It pierced him to the core, and he could only hold her and support her, tears burning his eyes as she clung to Ryeowook's lifeless body and wept. 

It was only a small consolation that he had spared her the pain of holding him as he died. 

But nothing made sense to him. Even as he stood there, knuckles turning white against the frame of Ryeowook's portait that he clung to, he couldn't understand. How had this happened? The members took their turns in being Ryeowook's pallbearers, red-eyed and stony-faced, first to the funeral home, then to the crematory. Even then, Henry didn't understand. 

He didn't think he ever would. 

It took Henry weeks after the funeral to brave going into Ryeowook's room. No one else had dared to, even after the police had cleared them to go into it. Then there was even talk that they would be moving dorms entirely soon. No one else could bring themselves to do it. No one else felt they had a right to be going through his things. Honestly, Henry felt he didn't have that right either. But it had to be done. Life must go on, his counselor had said. Perhaps this would help him move on, if he conquered the fear of it.

His stomach turned, stepping into the room. The room itself was mostly as Ryeowook had left it, but it didn't feel _right_ anymore. It stank of chemical cleaners, not the warm hint of cinnamon and apples that Henry was so used to from the candles Ryeowook loved. Not to mention, death hung heavy like a curtain in the room, pressing in at Henry from all angles. It suffocated him. 

_Ryeowook had_ died _in this room, right there on that floor._ All Henry could see was himself, reliving his worst nightmares all over again in vivid color. Could only see himself pleading and praying and crying and _screaming_ like the world was never going to be okay again. It was like watching himself in third-person, his memories playing out like a film projector.

He stood in the threshold for a long moment, gripping the door jamb as he fought to smother the memories. His legs suddenly felt weak, and he feared they might give out under him. Then he took a trembling breath, steeled himself, and set to work.

He packed up Ryeowook's phone first. He turned it back and forth in his hand, bit his lip. Gave in, and powered it on. And was broadsided with emotions as he saw his own face staring back at him, making a kissy face behind the keypad. He quickly powered it back down, putting it into the box. 

There were coins in a jar on Ryeowook's desk. The keys to the drawer that he kept all of the things he didn't want to share in. Every member had a locked drawer in their rooms, and it felt like he was violating something sacred by putting the key into the lock. It was mostly empty, save for a leather bound journal and a couple of candy bars he knew Donghae would have eaten had he known where they were. He couldn't help the teary little laugh as he pulled the candy bars out, put them aside. 

Then he pulled out the journal, and despite the tightness in his chest he flipped it open to the first page, sitting down on the edge of the bed. It could have been his planner and Henry would have wanted to read it, just to see his handwriting again. He saw the date in the upper corner, and realized that it was a diary of sorts.

He wasn't prepared for what was written there. 

_You don't matter. Why even bother? Nothing matters,_ was there in big, bold letters across the top of the page. The brief thought that this couldn't be Ryeowook's flitted across his mind, and he would have believed it, if it weren't so clearly in Ryeowook's hand. Underneath it, in much smaller writing, was what seemed to be a list of reasons why he did in fact matter.

_I make a difference_ , Ryeowook had written. _I matter to my brothers. I matter to Henry. I get up every day for them. I love them. I matter._ The next bullet point was more negativity. _You're alone. You're always going to be alone,_ and beneath it, Henry's name, the names of every member, and the names of his parents, and other friends. _I'm not alone. You're wrong,_ wrote Ryeowook. 

The next entry was dated a few days later. Across the top was scrawled, _Nobody cares about you._ Ryeowook had answered himself, _I care about me. Henry cares. I know he does. The others do too. They show me everyday. Text messages, silly pictures. I know they care._ Every page went along those lines, and Henry noticed, his stomach twisting into knots, that as the pages went on, the negative thoughts far outnumbered the positive ones.

Then, somewhere about halfway through the book, Henry noticed another kind of note. Instead of it being a negative thought written in bold, it was a confession, in a shaky hand, as though merely writing it took Ryeowook effort. 

_I thought about jumping from the roof today,_ it read. _And I might have done it, if not for the mess it would have made. I wouldn't want anyone to have to see that. Plus, I couldn't do that to the people I love._ Henry's heart began to pound as he read on, a cold chill settling over him. The confessions became steadily more and more intersperesed between the arguments with himself Ryeowook had inked out on the page.

_A train passed me by and I wondered if it'd hurt if I'd jumped in front of it. But what if there were children on the train? I couldn't do it._

_Coward_. 

_I'm not a coward. I'm not._

_Every time I see a knife I have to stop myself. I can't do it._

_Useless. Waste of space. You need to die._

_I don't want to die, not really. These thoughts are just driving me crazy. I don't know how else to get them to go away. I can't do it._

_No one would care. Everyone will forget you._

_I think there are enough pills in the cabinet that I wouldn't feel anything. I can't do it anymore._

_They wouldn't really forget me… would they?_

" _Don't forget me, Henry._ "

The journal fell to the floor with a loud thump and Henry pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, sprinting for the toilet. Vaguely, he heard the startled cries of the other members, concerned voices filtering in through the sudden hollowness in his ears as they pushed into the bathroom around him. He felt someone rubbing circles on his back as heaves turned to sobs. 

Henry understood now. 

He desperately wished he didn't.


End file.
